As I brush off the misty mirror of a 6ºC Mount Bromo lodge, I look at the reflection of a girl I once know possesed all the youth, all the guns and surprises. She grows up somewhat way faster since she's back to her homeland. Not a bad thing.

Coming home, all the same thing we used to do but with a different mindset of perceiving it. A state of realisation. I might say, the first visit was always to find some sort of idea, and the second is to make it work. Not to forget, get along with the new circle.

There is something inside me, believing that 'Hey, we could be friend.' Everyone. Indeed, with that sort of thought that I hold, I manage to break myelf to pieces yet gather back all the pieces again.

To open up to somebody is an undressing process. Naked, they might point out the size of your hips, or your chest. Unveiled, there might be an adjective that has already been attached to you before you're lips are moving. It is indeed scary. If you open up to somebody who's not even deserving your genuine self.